


I'm On The Edge For You

by fandomfluffandfuck



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (because I'm weak for it), (just a little), (planned exhibitionism at least), (you'll understand if you read I swear lol), Accidental Orgasm, Also There's Sugar Daddy Vibe But It's Just Steve Treating Bucky, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Begging, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Butt Plugs, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Edging, Embarrassment, Exhibitionism, Feminization, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Panties, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Shrunkyclunks, Size Kink, Sloppy Makeouts, Top Steve Rogers, erotic crying, horny shit, thigh humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29663547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfluffandfuck/pseuds/fandomfluffandfuck
Summary: Steve knows Bucky doesn't enjoy going to galas with him because he's always facing a barrage of embarrassing questions about how he landed the hottest, previously available bachelor in The States, scoffs at his "lifestyle" he has with Steve, or paparazzi's endless shit in general- even when Steve does his best to protect him. So, galas aren't his favorite, but still, they have to happen as Tony insists. And as Bucky insists, he will not be bullied by people he doesn't even know.So, naturally, Steve comes up with a way to make galas a little more...interesting.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 18
Kudos: 162





	I'm On The Edge For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [howdoyousleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdoyousleep/gifts).



> This is a gift for K because when thinking about this idea I said OUT LOUD, to myself, "that's K's brand of horny, straight up."  
> So... yeah. You can find her stuff on Tumblr [here](https://howdoyousleep3.tumblr.com/) and my own Tumblr [here.](https://fandomfluffandfuck.tumblr.com/)

“Buck, would you c’mere?” 

Bucky is standing in the bathroom, facing the vanity so he can do something with his hair that doesn’t make him look like a twelve year old in a stupidly expensive suit, when Steve calls for him. His voice is hovering somewhere between his commanding _I’m Captain America_ timbre and his rich, deep _you're mine_ sex voice thanks to the approaching event they need to make an appearance at. Bucky fists his suit jacket lapels gently, trying to not crease the butter soft fabric, reminding himself about the event - the gala - again as his feet start to move before he can consciously decide to leave the bathroom. Steve has him wrapped around his finger. 

“Steve?  _ Wha-?” _ he rounds the corner and loses his voice. Steve is half standing, half leaning on a chair; thick, muscular body clad in his own expensive suit. His mouth dries. Bucky saw the suit in the walk-in closet earlier, after it was delivered, but- it has an entirely different impact when it’s Steve’s body under the fabric. The fabric of his slacks, jacket, and waistcoat is a dark, jewel toned turquoise that makes him look extra tan. His tie is charcoal grey. His shirt is undeniably silk, catching the light even though it’s pure black. He looks-  _ big. _

He’s leaning against a dining room chair though. A  _ dining room  _ chair. That’s in the bedroom. For some reason. 

“C’mere,” he calls again, knowing he doesn’t have to explain himself, he will just obey anyway.

Bucky moves like a puppet, getting tugged into the strong tide of Steve’s appeal and confidence.

The jacket of his suit is cool and smooth under his hands, obviously a luxury item,  _ “daddy,” _ he hears himself sigh, petting his broad shoulders. Helpless to melting into his hold, his thick, solid arms encircling his slighter frame, chest like a brick wall as he curls into the hug. 

“What, baby?” Steve rumbles, his chest rising and falling under his cheek, unhurried. 

He hums, tucking himself further into his arms to feel more to the vibration of his voice as he speaks, getting the feeling that he’s going to be talking for a bit. Also, he’s just content to hide from the blinding lights that he knows await them for now, but Steve doesn’t need to know that, “you gonna tie me down?” is the first thing that falls out of his mouth.  _ Naturally.  _

The dining chair creaks as Steve takes his weight away from it, shouting it’s victory, “to the chair?” Bucky nods, the silk of his shirt and tie caressing his cheek. “No.” 

Assuming, foolishly, that’s that’s the end of the embrace, Bucky pulls back. Standing up straight, cataloging his daddy’s handsome features for the millionth time. His deep blue eyes, pupils interested but not blown yet, his sandy hair, pushed back from his face stylishly, not too long but longer now than ever at his own instance, his strong jaw, his cheekbones- everything. But Steve isn’t done. His arms stay locked around him, squeezing him even closer as he lowers his voice even more and asks, nearly innocently, “why would I tie you down? You gonna try and get away from daddy?” 

He sucks in an audible breath. Head whirling with the changing pace of this conversation and at the intensity that he shakes his head, Bucky lets Steve take his weight as proof that he’s not going anywhere. Ever. 

“Didn’t think so…” his smirk is knee-weakening, “no. ‘M not gonna tie you down ‘cause I don’t have to. You’re not going anywhere. Besides,” his huge palm runs the length of his spine, pulling hot shivers from within him, “I don’t wanna crease your pretty clothes, do I?” 

“No,” he whispers. The rearing head of want rising inside him easily tamed by the praise in the older man’s voice, calming and exciting at once. 

“You like ‘em, yeah?” 

Bucky’s pulse races. It’s a stupid question. He loves it, he loves it so much that he isn’t mad or disappointed in the slightest that Steve isn’t going to tie him up. He doesn’t want the perfection of it to be ruined.  _ “‘Course, _ you picked it, daddy,” is all that he says though, whispering because he suddenly can’t manage to be any louder. Steve knows the rest. He can see through him with those eyes. 

“I know. You match me,” he responds, kissing the top of his head and pulling him closer. And he’s right. His shirt is also black, made of the same silk. And his jacket, slacks, and tie are all the same charcoal as Steve’s own tie. He doesn’t have any turquoise because it apparently distracts from his eyes and… daddy doesn’t want that. Steve clears his throat, “you put on  _ everything  _ I got you, doll?” 

Bucky blushes, embarrassment bouncing around in his chest wildly even while he gives the truth over easily,  _ “yes.”  _

“Mmm,” he hums, low and growly, “good boy.” 

He presses closer to Steve, whimpering as he feels the soft sensation of his panties sliding over him more now that his daddy called attention to them; they’re sheer enough he can also feel the inside of his pants faintly right along with Steve’s thigh. It’s almost like being naked under his suit but…  _ naughtier. _

They’re so sinfully sheer. Sheer  _ everywhere.  _ And the material is a dangerously innocent, pale pink and there are lines of equally pink velvet ribbon bordering the gauzy but luxuriously soft fabric, giving it shape but also making ruffles rather than hard edges. 

“C’mere,” Steve purrs once more, pulling him into him hard and guiding them both back from the center of the room to the edge of the bed, turning so the backs of Bucky’s thighs hit the mattress. Daddy pushes him down. Laying him flat on the bed and following him gracefully.

Bucky wants,  _ but, _ he's buzzing with unease for a reason today, "daddy? The gala…" he offers weakly, his hands sliding from Steve’s shoulder to his impressive chest. He doesn't want to go, not really, all he ever gets asked about or approached for is salacious details about what  _ Captain America  _ is like in the bedroom or about how on Earth  _ he  _ managed to land The States most eligible bachelor, sneering like he's not worth having that spot, or doing slash asking something equally stupid. No matter how much Steve protects him - almost being his literal bodyguard with all the height and weight he’s got over him - paparazzi fucks always slide their way into the crowds and find him or any of the other Avengers significant others. Pestering them to try and get god knows what out of them. 

But… it’s important. 

If it weren’t Steve wouldn’t have asked him to go with him anyway. 

_ “Hush, _ lemme worry about it, ‘kay?” Daddy speaks straight into the side of his face, lips brushing his cheek and scattering his worries. Continuing to pin him down with his bulk, caging him on one side with the bead and on the other with his big shoulders and chest and thighs and his cock. Heavy and warm. 

Bucky nods, feeling himself slip, melting under the other man. His body switching gears to allow Steve to take care of him. He can hear the fuck-rough growl of his voice in his head, echoing and raising his blood pressure, _D_ _ addy knows best.  _

Sensing his natural submission, Steve kisses him sweetly. His lips are warm and welcoming and pushing just the right amount to get him to unfold and sigh. Bucky knows his own lips slacken with the all consuming feeling of  _ Steve _ when the blonde nips his lower lip _.  _ Invading his space and tongue pushing between his lips. He moans; heat growing inside him from a purr to a car’s idle. 

Steve pulls away just as soon as he started, Bucky’s head spins, his eyes blink open, a whine sitting right on the edge of his lips. 

He chuckles and noses his cheek, smiling softly, lips a touch redder but exponentially more desirable now that he’s had his first taste. Igniting him like always. Another whine is right there waiting,  _ “Steve,” _ he pleads. 

“What?” He responds, not sounding sorry at all. 

Bucky doesn’t know what he wants anyway. He stares at Steve’s lips, willing him to do something, to give him what he’s asking for even though he doesn’t know. There’s fizzling anxiety in his head, emptiness enjoyment budding at the base of his neck, wanting to crawl up into his brain to melt him, and simmering arousal bleeding into every part of his body, muddling and mixing him up. He tightens his fingers, curling them into the collar of his shirt and his tie. He knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t want to ruin the knot in his tie or the smooth, pressed look of his shirt but… 

“Buckyyy,” Steve drawls. Hanging onto the word, Bucky’s dick twitches hopefully even though they’re both still clothed and they're both in  _ nice clothes. He's _ not going to get anything in all likelihood, not with those circumstances. He’s just- 

He can’t help himself. 

Daddy is dressed in his form fitting three piece suit, looking like a god amongst men, and talking about how he not only picked out his suit but bought it for him and,  _ oh, yeah,  _ it’s not just his suit; he bought him panties too, panties that he’s been told to wear for the event. He’s also being pressed into the bed while getting kissed like, like,  _ that  _ and so  _ of course  _ he wants to get off. Of course he’s hard in his panties. Of course he’s humping up into his daddy, his tree trunk thigh, with the little bit of wiggle room that he’s humoring him with and-

_ “Oh-” _

When did his body decide to do that? 

Steve chuckles, the bastard, enjoying his loss of control. Letting him hump himself silly, thickening the arousal in his own veins and feeding the fire beginning to roar inside of him because he knows he’s making it worse for himself. He’s going to have to sit through the  _ hours  _ of the gala, needy and denied and-

Bucky can’t think about it anymore. He whines, fighting himself. 

And Steve pulls away. He moves up, holding himself above Bucky for a moment like a wolf sadistically toying with a rabbit before really going for the kill. He moves back, slinking off of him, muscles moving and bulging, coiled like he’s ready to strike. All power and dominance, towering over him, dressed to the nines. 

All of the air leaves the room. 

Steve walks away. Bucky doesn’t dare move. He doesn’t even turn his head to watch where he goes, he just looks up at the ceiling. Heart beating out of his chest. 

Steve comes back seconds later, standing above him, drifting back into view.

He is helpless to stop his eyes from wandering this time, his suit jacket has been lost to reveal the slightly deeper toned, simply patterned turquoise of his waistcoat that clings to his trim waist. His tie is still clipped in place, his belt is still done up, his watch is still on his left wrist, everything is still perfectly intact other than his sleeves. He’s rolled the inky black fabric of his sleeves up. Showing off his strong, vein emboldened, perfectly hairy forearms. 

Bucky didn’t know that there was just the perfect amount of body hair to drive him up the wall before he met Steve… but there is. And, of course, it’s the amount that Steve has. 

Steve pulls the fucking chair in between his legs. 

Bucky exercises an impressively strong amount of will at the bold move by not shutting his legs instantly and giving into the urging, strangling amount of embarrassment under his skin. His dick is the only part of him that doesn’t get the memo, pounding and nearly preening rather than squirming and curling in like the rest of him.

But then Steve sits down in the chair. 

He just- _ just sits in it! _ Pulling a seat up to his body in the same manner that he might pull up a chair to a homemade meal. His hands land on his thighs, heavy as they might land on the surface of a table and Bucky shudders. He doesn’t know what to do. Unsuccessfully swallowing his own sound of gleeful and shameful approval. Steve’s eyes promise that he’s just the meal that he feels he is. 

And yet, he doesn’t remove any of his clothes. He leaves him clad in everything from his jacket to his socks as he takes up all the space between his legs. If he doesn’t get to be naked… that means  _ he doesn't get to cum. He can't stain his clothes. _

Without a word, just a sinister smirk, Steve undoes his belt and slacks expertly, pulling them down after sliding his belt from the loops. Humming when he lifts his hips at the right moment, letting him work his pants down to his midthigh where he leaves him. Heat bursts in Bucky’s chest; he doesn’t know that daddy is asking of him, but if he’s doing good at whatever it is then… it’s good. It feels good. Like honey dripping down his spine and gathering in his belly. 

Having his slacks pulled down not only exposes his see-through panties and thus his cock to Steve’s dark eyes but it also forces him to squeeze his knees into his shoulders or risk popping some of the seams of his slacks. He couldn't forget that Steve is the one between his thighs anyway but when his huge shoulders are what’s keeping him from his modesty… it’s so much worse. 

And by worse, he means  _ so  _ much better because Steve is rumbling, “you gonna let daddy help you relax before we go out, huh?” Dragging his hands up and down his now bare thighs, stroking him close to wear he wants but not quite there. Not yet. Deliciously burning his already heated skin with the friction.

Bucky heaves in a breath, nodding frantically even though his neck already hurts from trying to keep his eyes locked on what his daddy is doing to him while laying flat. He couldn’t bear it if he missed a single thing. 

_ “Yeah,”  _ Steve whispers, “‘course you are. You’re always so good for me,” he mumbles, bending forward and pressing somehow still erotic kisses to his legs even though they’re closed mouth and should, by all means, only be sweet. Bucky knows better. He knows the lurking danger, Steve can turn on a dime. 

Heat curls tighter inside him and his fingers twitch against the sheets of their bed but then they jolt. Heat cuts him in half. And his fingers scramble to fist the bedding because Steve’s lips are brushing his dick. Not just his thighs anymore. His mouth is closed and he’s just kissing him. Through his panties. And it shouldn’t- it shouldn’t feel so nice. 

But it does. 

Because of course it does. 

Daddy’s breath washes over him, hot and slow, as he presses kisses to his shaft and the thin, sensitive skin between his hips. He twitches at the influx of sensation and it makes Steve laugh which makes more hot air rush over his sensitive body, raising goosebumps along his sides and looping around him. Squeezing him tight. 

“Feelin’ good already?” Daddy teases thickly, hands rucking up his shirt. Bucky nods even while he feels the tip of Steve’s nose brush his hip and his fingertips feather over him. Caressing him, making him fatten up more with the blood surging and singing just under his skin at the treatment. At being held and touched like he’s made of glass. Like he’s breakable. Precious.

He gasps, forgetting anything he might’ve been thinking about or feeling before. 

His fingers become more insistent. The brushes become touches and touches become grabs and grabs become strokes and suddenly Bucky is pinned to the bed with the pleasure weighing over his fragile, reeling mindset, cutting his breathing short. Pressing into his skin and becoming part of him. 

Daddy is kissing his stomach and sides, making rumbly noises of encouragement into his flushing skin when he moves or moans as his hands stroke him and roll his balls through his panties. Sweat is building up over his skin but he can’t stop it, he’s overheating, panting, chest heaving. Pleasure is creeping up and up, rising like a tide. His eyes are open but his vision is getting hazy, there’s too much to pay attention to further down and so he can’t think. His head is empty. 

Bucky, weakened, lets himself fall back to the mattress, collapsing. He’s facing the ceiling but only thinking about and paying attention to Steve. The rest of the world could be on fire just like he is and he’d never know.

“Tell me how it feels, pretty,” Steve commands, sitting up, getting more serious about touching him. Carrying even more weight and intention behind his palms. 

Bucky moans, the combination of the fabric of his panties rubbing him and Steve’s rough, callused hands are too much to bear. He’s hot enough to have a dangerous fever by this point, his dick is fully hard, and his balls are starting to get the idea that orgasm needs to happen soon- fancy clothes be damned. And yet… Steve keeps stroking him, playing him like a violin, dragging up and down, up and down. 

Arousal is circulating his body more consistently than his blood is by this point, making him feel shivery and sparkling like there’s static filling his body rather than… body… stuff- 

“C’mon,” he calls his head back into the game, encouraging but not all that patient, “tell me how good it feels. Having your pretty little dick touched.” 

Bucky keens, high in the back of his throat, the words  _ “ pretty”  _ and  _ “little”  _ striking him down to his bones. He feels it. He feels tiny and little and dainty under daddy’s hands. He feels pretty in the clothes that daddy bought him when thinking about how they would make him look. How they would make him feel. 

_ “Fuck-”  _ is the first thing spilling over his lips, dripping down his chin with how breathy and watered down the swear is. Steve’s deep, rich laughter vibrates through Bucky’s body like a plucked guitar string and his fingers squeezing his dick without mercy makes him cry out twice as loud, “d- _ daddy!”  _

There is no verbal answer. Just a looming threat when his fingers slow down and Bucky’s pleasure ebbs in the smallest of ways. 

“Fffeels,” he gasps, embarrassment springs back up in his belly as his dick twitches and drips. He speeds back up, honestly just giving him a hand-job now. Just. Through panties. He’s throbbing.  _ “Feels good.”  _

“Honey, I know that,” he acknowledges him, simplifying his struggle oh so-easily down to  _ nothing  _ and Bucky wiggles under his heavy gaze, whimpering. Shutting his eyes against the bubbling tears. 

It feels so good. 

And he’s not stopping. 

Steve’s hand keeps it’s pace, slow and steady but completely overwhelming. Systematically driving him out of his mind. Simple but complex because he  _ knows  _ he gets dumb when he has any pleasure and literally anything else he needs to do… there’s a reason Steve usually has to be extra careful not to tease him- he melts too easily to take it normally. 

“Feels-” he stutters, tongue tied even though a million things he loves about Steve’s hands fire through his mind. His thick, long fingers that make him squeal when they curl in his cunt, seeking out the center of his being. His gorgeously graceful movements when he paints. The calluses on his palms that make his toes curl when he jerks him off. The overall, sheer size of his palms that always wrap him up tight. He inhales shakily, “I. I- your hands, your hands feel good.” Steve hums, nodding, not letting up, “your h-hands are, are so big. And rough. Feels good on my- my… on me. And they make m-me feel small.” 

“You are small,” he cups his dick with a single hand as he speaks, casual, “can fit all a’ you into one of my hands.” 

Bucky moans, arching his neck as Steve presses down. Adjusting his aching dick for him, pushing it so his leaking head is peaking out of the top of his panties. Pulses of need wrack his body. Like it makes any difference, Bucky knows real well that Steve can see everything else anyway. His panties are good for nothing but show and they show off  _ everything.  _ Steve tuts. He wants more words and… words are hard. 

“Feels- feels… makes me feel small.” He whines, there are words on the tip of his tongue but. They’re embarrassing. They make him want to bury his face into his daddy’s chest and still whisper them. He can barely get them out around the lust piling up inside of him.  _ “An’ and- cute. Makes me feel like, like you own me. Havin’ your hands on me. T-touching me.” _

“Yeah,” he chuckles thickly, “know you love how tiny you feel in my hands. And I love making you feel that way, baby, ‘cause it’s true, ain’t it?”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky chokes, canting his hips up into his palm without meaning to. Steve leans down just to bite him for it,  _ “ah-!”  _ Pain zips through his pleasure like the flash of lightning through night skies, his dick leaks more, weeping for him. Colors burst under his shut eyelids. 

“Mm, yeah. I do own you, you’re right about that, Buck. Guess you haven’t gone all the way dumb on me just yet, huh?” Bucky bites his lower lip, willing none of the girly noises in his throat to be let out of him. Daddy answers for him, “I do own you. I’m the one touching this pretty little dick, aren’t I? I bought you these pretty panties, right? I dressed you up, didn’t I-”

Bucky doesn’t want to interrupt his daddy but he has to. All of the sudden, he  _ has  _ to. Gasping, “close,” under his panting breaths. But Steve doesn’t stop. His hand keeps stroking and touching and moving. So Bucky cries,  _ “close! Close! Close!”  _ His lower lip trembling, his body pushing up into Steve’s, ready to snap. 

_ “Nno-” _ Bucky mewls remorsefully, melting back into the mattress as his muscles loosen. Peaking tension disappearing. His orgasm slipping away, pleasure draining from his body woefully. 

“I know, I know,” Steve coos like he’s not the one taking him back from the edge, not the one giving him this torture. Making sure that he doesn’t cum. 

His plush lips meet his thighs where they’re bare and Bucky whines, gripping the sheets tighter than before, even when he was on the edge. Frustration joining the blaze in him. 

_ Again?  _ is the only thing bouncing around inside him other than wasted, waning pleasure. 

He hates to love Steve when he gets in these moods. Teasing, relentless, and mischievous. Bucky is young and Steve has him trained well, he can cum multiple times if he wants. Steve is a super soldier and he can basically cum as many times as he wants or feels like. But sometimes… sometimes Steve doesn’t want either of them to cum. He wants to expand and prolong their intertwined pleasure consistently until the last second where they launch into outer space rather than having high, sharp peaks of orgasms and deep valleys of recovery.

Groaning Bucky gives himself over to the older man all over again. 

Steve peels his panties down like he understands exactly what that groan means. Pushing them down to his midthigh where his slacks are already waiting, they look like a whisper of fabric crumpled against the robust actual cloth. Exposing him all over again. Unwrapping another layer of him. 

Bucky shivers and it’s got nothing to do with the temperature of the room. 

Using the tips of his fingers Steve starts from the beginning again. Tracing nonsensical patterns over his skin. Working his way up but rather than starting from zero and warming him up, this time he’s careful to not touch too much because he doesn’t want to set him off just yet. Touching him like he’s more fragile than even glass now. Bucky’s chest heaves. His cock pounds with his rapid pulse, achy now that he’s been denied. His body switches from cooling down to heating right back up. Pre-cum leaks from the head of his dick onto his belly as he chokes back a whimper. 

Steve drags his fingers through the puddle he’s got going already, smearing it down his fully bared cock with feather light touches. Slicking him up and setting him on fire. 

He mewls, shaking and fruitlessly begging, “please, pl-please.” 

_ Please let me cum. Please keep touching me. Please make me cum. Please do something. Please do anything. _

More swooping lines are dragged over his shaft, turning his shallow, fast breaths to audible little sounds, gasps and moans that flow out of him like pre-cum. He can’t stop leaking. He can’t stop moving. He was shaking. Now he’s squirming uselessly, Steve has a hand or, really just his fingers, on his cock and the other is holding his hip. Holding him in place. 

He’s got no chances of escape. Not with the amount of strength Steve has in just one of his hands, just one part of his body. 

The holds he has on his body are dizzying; one pleasurable inherently, all the soft, gentle touches to his cock, and the other is taboo in it’s pleasure- having a big man holding him down, making him take what he gives him. The juxtaposition of his hands has Bucky whining and begging more. 

Words coming out more garbled than understandable when his daddy decides that that moment is the ideal time to circle the head of his cock with his thumb. Rubbing and teasing him. Toying with his slit. The rest of his hand is easily curled around his dick. Holding him just how he wants him. No sweat.

He’s got no way of moving into or away from the situation- the stimulation. He’s trapped. Gloriously trapped. Pleasure burns down his spine, flames licking up his legs, his balls tightening and,  _ god,  _ he could cum like this. He could, he could-

Steve starts jerking him off in earnest all of the sudden, palm engulfing him, using his own natural wetness to slick him up. Full, long movements with just the right amount of pressure and-

Bucky moans, ragged and loud with his full body shock at the easy way he’s suddenly been given pleasure, “d-daddy. Daddy!  _ Daddy-!”  _

His fist makes no to move toward mercy, moving just as fast. 

His grip tightens instead, squeezing him  _ so  _ good. 

Bucky’s own gasps and cries echo back to his own ears right along with the wet stripping sounds of his hand on him. Jerking him. Driving him up the wall even though he’s paralyzed with pleasure. His toes curl, all of his muscles tightening, pulling him taunt, preparing him for release. Preparing him for the moment his cup flows over, filled by the tide of pleasure that Steve is pushing towards him like his own personal moon. 

He thrashes his head from side to side because it’s all he can do. The only agency he has over himself is that. He can’t stop the train heading straight towards him, he can’t back away or roll off to the side. He’s splayed out and opened up. And he’s not going to make it. 

_ “Ah!” _ Steve’s fist must be a blur over his dick, he’s moving so fast. He’s vibrating with the amount of tremors crashing through him along with bolts of pleasure. He’s never been so fucking turned on. Never so close without tipping over.  _ “Pluh-please!” _ He whimpers unabashedly,  _ this  _ close to crying and even closer to cumming.

_“Please!_ ** _No-!_** _Nno,”_ he whines, loud and uncomfortably pitchy as his hand disappears completely. Taking everything away from him without warning. 

Waning pleasure drips out of his body, leaking from his fisted hands into the sheets, from the top of his head, from the souls of his feet. Escaping him. 

_ “Pleeeease,”  _ he tries one last time, sounding pathetic even to his own ears, blinking up at the ceiling with welling eyes. 

He was  _ so  _ close. 

Frustration rises higher up inside him, worming its way under his skin, itchy and hot. He shifts as much as he can and as much as he dares when Steve loosens his hold on his hip, his other hand, the hand that  _ was  _ on his dick, is still doing… something else. 

Uselessly he makes sounds of complaint that certainly will get him in trouble later for whining. But- he’s going to sweat through his suit. He’s already ruined his nice clothes. They’re probably all creased and- he swallows. Near tears. All of his skin is sticking to the fabric still covering him with his sweat. 

Fumbling his way through the sheets, his hands search for something- anything to grab onto. He finds nothing but sees Steve. 

Steve is suddenly back to standing over him, blurrier and less defined now that his eyes are all watery with denial and desperation. 

He’s cooing at him somewhere beyond the static filling his ears, and he’s, he’s… Bucky squirms more, swimming in arousal and other, mixed up, unnamable feelings. He’s wiping his hands on a fucking  _ towel  _ that he’s got from where-fucking-ever. Mumbling something about  _ “you get so wet”  _ and more things about  _ “stains”  _ on their  _ “nice clothes”.  _ Bucky trembles. Overwhelmed. Sinking back down to Earth on his fading pleasure but floating higher up on churning, boiling embarrassment. Somehow it turns erotic. But it shouldn’t be, so Bucky tries to lift his head up to glare at him. 

It doesn’t work. 

Daddy just smiles evilly when he catches his eyes,  _ “aw, Buck,”  _ he purrs. Throwing the towel off the side, leaning down to soothe back a strand of hair away from where it’s sticking to his forehead, rumbling, “as much as I love seeing you cry… no tears right now, honey. You need to be camera ready.” Bucky’s tummy clenches, his cock twitches, his whole body throbs.  _ Fuck.  _ He's going to have to walk the red carpet after this. _ Like nothing happened.  _ Like his whole world wasn’t just devastated by America’s  _ golden boy.  _ Their… their  _ innocent, all-American idol.  _

Fuckfuckfuck-

“Would it help to see something else I bought for you?” Bucky hears him, but he doesn’t understand. He’s a little too caught up in, well, everything. It sticks better when he goes on, “would it make those doll eyes stop watering, huh? Distract that pretty head a' yours for a little while with something just as pretty, yeah?” 

_ What the fuck? More gifts. More- more gifts… gifts probably like the kind of gift that his panties were?  _ He’s going to end up getting out of a hearse to arrive at the gala, not a limo.

“Stay.” He offers, smirking, knowing just the way his insides melt at the simple command. Simple enough for even a dog to follow. His lower lip trembles to the point that he has to bite down on it. 

Daddy returns. Standing close enough to the foot of the bed that he can be seen briefly sliding something into the pocket of his slacks, smoothly teasing him with a millisecond glance at his hand wrapped around his gift without telling him anything more about it. It tents the fabric of his pants, disguising the vulgar bulge of his cock. 

His breath catches unsteadily in his chest at the same moment his mouth waters. 

Steve clicks his tongue, sliding down to sit in the chair once more, “sit up for me, ‘kay?” Adding “just elbows for now,” when Bucky blinks at him, not understanding and going to get all the way up. He lets a sigh slip, elbows are easier than all the way up. 

He sways a little, weak all over, seeing daddy between his legs: sleeves rolled up, watch still cuffing his wrist, waistcoat emphasizing his trim torso like a handsome corset, money practically dripping from him with the expensive look of it all. Debauched and confident. Sexier than anything else Bucky’s laid his eyes on. Getting deep into him. 

First daddy pulls out a tube of lube. Bucky’s consistent but heavy breaths disappear again.

Then daddy pulls out a plug. 

_ “Fuck-” _ Bucky gasps, high and whiny, his hole clenching around nothing. 

Daddy turns the plug over, spinning it around a little, showing him what he’s missing. What he has yet to get but still wants more than anything. His body responds in kind, clenching and squirming. The end of the plug is a rose because that’s Steve,  _ ever a romantic, _ but it’s also glass -  _ pink glass - _ intentionally heavy and sized so he’ll have to clench around it to keep it inside him because that’s also a thing about his daddy,  _ he’s kinky as hell. _ It’s gorgeous but… it’s going to make him struggle, so it’s evil too.

“You like it?” 

Bucky nods, dizzy. 

“You want it in you?” 

Bucky nods, more frantic, dizzier than before. 

Steve sets it to the side of him. The plug rolls down into the dip his body is making in the mattress, resting against his naked side. He shivers hotly. Just having it touching him… it’s- it’s… he wants it. He wants it in him. He wants to whine and struggle and melt, all in public, because his daddy wants him to- because his daddy  _ planned  _ for him to.

The cap of the lube pops open. 

Bucky hears Steve wet his fingers with burning ears. 

He shifts closer, dining chair creaking, breath coming to fan over his skin, hot- like a predator coming in for the kill. Bucky’s elbows give in - following the rest of his body's lead - and he falls back onto the mattress. Becoming a puddle of lust and nothing more. He arches his neck with a gasp as Daddy’s fingers, wet and chilled, trace down from the base of his cock to his balls and further back still, giving his throat up for the hungry wolf that is Steve. He’s ready to be devoured. 

All of his touches are feathering ones that punch little sounds from him, moving lower and lower and making him louder and louder. Settling low enough in no time at all that his other hand comes into play, cupping one of his cheeks, taking him in one hand, and  _ pulling,  _ spreading him wide. Exposing him and painting a line of desire over him, leaving him sticky, teasing him with wetness. 

_ “Please,” _ Bucky hears himself beg breathily, barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears and the anticipation racing through him. 

Steve groans and husks, “yeah? You gonna beg daddy for his fingers? You gonna ask him real nice and pretty for his fingers even though he’s not gonna let you cum? You really that easy, doll? That needy?” 

_ “Yes,” _ Bucky answers without thinking, desperate as Steve is accusing him of being, “y-yes, daddy, want- want you in me.” 

“You always want that,” he huffs, laughing a little under his breath. But his fingers twitch and press harder into the sensitive skin between his legs and so Bucky  _ has  _ to keep going. 

Whimpering he scrambles for something better to say, something that will make him do something. Something other than trace the skin between his cheeks, barely stopping at his rim at all. Pressing lazily lines and circles over his skin like he’s way, way more sensitive. It has his head spinning again. Daddy’s making a mess out of him. 

“Want- I, I want… want you to touch me,” Steve hums, fingers gently pressing against his hole, making him stutter more, “w-wanna be full. F-fill me up.” A burst of desperation turns his next words into high whimpers, “ff-full an’, and- just, full ‘cause you, you filled me up. Want-” his cheeks are blood hot. Boiling actually. God. He sounds- so, so easy. So slutty. 

“Whaddya want to fill you up?” 

Bucky moans, wiggling as much as he can, feeling sweat drip down his back, “y-your fingers,” he mumbles. Itchy need crawling all over him- desperation can’t always take away all of his embarrassment… especially when his embarrassment is making him hotter too. It’s a loop.

One big, torturous, deadly loop. 

“Huh? What was that?” Steve tips his head to the side, pressing just the tip, the  _ very  _ tip, of his first finger in as he rumbles. 

His brain feels like it’s dripping out of his ears from the teasing. Winding him tighter and tighter and  _ tighter.  _ He makes another stupid noise, dick twitching against his stomach, his cunt joining in too this time, having been antagonized just enough. 

_ “Daddy didn’t hear you, honey.”  _ He rumbles into his skin, pulling the words up higher in his throat and out of his mouth with an added, “tell daddy what you need.” Using the tone of voice that he has that he  _ knows  _ makes him fall to his knees. 

“Need your fing- _ AH!” _

His plea is cut in half by sudden, swallowing pleasure. Blinding him. Forcing his eyes to snap shut and his mouth to fall wide open- making room for the flood of sensation as Steve finally fucking pushes his first finger into him. Stretching his cunt and beckoning him to comply with whatever he wants. Sweet talking his body into doing things that Bucky didn’t know it could do. 

“Just my fingers?” Steve asks, thrusting his finger in and out of him smoothly, tugging on his nerves and making them sing. 

Bucky doesn’t know how to respond, he’s not sure he even understands the question. He just pants wetly at the ceiling, shaking, still trying to recover from the sudden movement. Not because it’s painful, no, Daddy trained his body too well for that, it’s just- the exact opposite. There’s so much to feel. Heat and pleasure and wetness and-  _ fuck.  _ Even just one of Steve’s fingers. Just one and it’s  _ so  _ much. Thick and long and if he’d just- 

_ “Oh! Ah-! Daddy!”  _ His finger twists inside of his cunt. His hole. Moving just so. And then curling and touching his prostate blatantly like he doesn’t know what it does to him. How much it tears him apart. How much it wrecks him and makes him see stars. 

There’s an entire fucking constellation of stars behind his eyes as a second finger joins the first inside of him. Bucky wails. Arching his back so much, trying to get more, always more, that Steve’s unoccupied hand has to shove him back down onto the bed. His fingers are still digging into his hip, holding him in place without breaking a sweat, “y’sure, doll? Y’sure you wanna be nice and full-” his internal muscles clench around his fingers so tightly that his daddy blows out a little sound of hunger, igniting more of the animal inside him “-tonight?” 

Bucky nods wildly, squirming helplessly and trying to cope with the unfairly erotic tone of voice and the feeling of his daddy’s fingers stretching away from each other to pull another visceral reaction from his body at the same time that he pulls his ability to think away from him with his words. 

“Mmm, I’m not sure-” a wrecked whine slips from him, he’s not sure he could take it if he stopped. He’d just- he’d go insane. He’d get down and crawl, get onto his hands and knees, he’d do anything for him to keep going, “maybe I got too ahead of myself, huh?” Bucky cannot respond. His fingers are still working in and out of his throbbing body. “Maybe we shouldn’t plug you up and stuff you full tonight,” Bucky doesn’t realize he’s squeezing Steve’s fingers with everything he’s got and whining even more until he gets hushed. 

Raising an eyebrow as if to ask  _ are you done?  _ Steve stops his fingers. 

He starts thrusting them back in and out, sliding a third into him, as he speaks again, “I know, I know, but honey, think for me for a second…” Bucky can’t think though. His fingers are too big and thick and long and they’re  _ inside him  _ and so he can’t. Filling his cunt right up perfectly. “You get so dumb when you’ve got anything in you, don’t you?” 

Bucky whines, trembling, electric arousal storming through him. He does. He does.

“Yeah, you do,” Steve’s lips caress his hip bone, more heat piles impossibly high in his chest, “and you’ve got a lot of reporters and important people to speak to, y’know?” Bucky’s hands fly up to his face as he cries out, his face has to be, like, swollen with how much he’s blushing. “I would hate for you to embarrass yourself,” Steve lies through his teeth, whispering as he thrusts all three of his fingers into him.  _ Hard.  _ Pressing where it counts. 

Bucky moans with abandon at the ceiling, emptying his lungs so the pleasure inside him can fully take over, chanting two things over and over in his head as his daddy works him over, stoking the flames devastating his insides and feeding all of his good emotions at once somehow. The first thing is what he’s always thinking with Steve:  _ daddy, daddy, daddydaddydaddy-  _ The second is not new but still special with the way he’s being treated tonight:  _ close, close, close, closeclose- _

Daddy can read him like a book that’s meant specifically for first time readers. 

He presses and thrusts and moves until he’s there. He’s  _ right there, _ on the edge and about to tumble over and-

_“Nn-_ _daddy. Daddy! Ah- please. Please. Please. Pl-please.”_ He cries out, words fizzling out into watery eyes and sniffles, desperation making him entirely incoherent, hiccups choking out of him as his body contracts and squirms under the crushing weight of pleasure. He’s on fire. He’s more than ready to burst into tears, Daddy’s earlier words are the only thing keeping the floodgates together. He’s shaking with all the frustration and denial in his system. Building up and up and up. Eroding away his morals and replacing all of his needs. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Daddy coos. Stroking his sweaty skin, tugging his slacks and panties a little lower and moving around in that damn chair, making it squeak under the sheer amount of man that he is. 

_ He’s bein’ so nice but so mean,  _ Bucky’s slushy brain offers, pushing his lower lip forward with a heaving exhale. Fire fading from within him, tapering down to a still intolerable level but more tolerable now that he’s been dipped in and consumed by fire too. 

Steve slides the plug into him. 

Having picked it up at some point that Bucky undeniably wasn’t paying enough attention to to notice. He notices now.

It’s cold. 

So cold compared to his overheating, melted insides. 

His eyes pop open. His lips hang open, jaw muscles failing. His chest heaves. His back arches until it hurts. His entire body and mind narrows to the push of the plug into him, hot and slick, stretching his muscles like it’s nothing even though it feels like  _ everything. _

A silent scream gutturally pushes its way up from his tummy. 

Claws of need and lust wrap him up, squeezing him tight. 

Bucky can’t help clawing at the sheets and pushing down desperately even though there’s no fucking way he’ll ever win against Daddy.  _ Daddy’s too strong. So strong. _

It’s  _ so _ much. 

It’s logically not much bigger than three of his thickly knuckled fingers but- but it’s… it’s hard and heavy  _ (it is glass- pink glass!) _ , tugging him down. Filling him up. Spreading him out. Weighing his body down to a hazy, sugary level of existence. 

It’s getting him close. Pushing him right back to the side of the cliff he’s been hanging onto all night. Having it inside him. 

Having a toy that Daddy bought him in his cunt. Something Daddy wants him to have in him. Daddy’s toy…  _ ‘m daddy’s toy and Daddy put a toy in me. A toy in his toy.  _

He pulls it out half way. 

Without thinking Bucky arches his back and sobs. Trying with everything inside him to chase the pleasure of the toy, the stretch, the need it’s soothing. 

He knows he’s pulling it out to make sure he doesn’t accidentally tip over the edge just with it inside him, brushing his prostate and giving him something to clench down on, helping him stay good, but- but…

_ “Thh-that’s nn’ fair,”  _ Bucky pleads, slurring, head spinning and buzzing. Gasping the words out and nearly choking instead. Still sobbing. Splitting at the seams. 

Daddy just laughs. Chuckling, enjoying his agony, and saying something that goes miles over Bucky’s head in his current state of debauchery. 

And that’s where they stay. 

Bucky is moving at a million miles an hour or no miles at any unit of time at all, he’s at lightspeed or he’s never going to move ever again. He’s got no idea. He’s just… just swimming. Floating rather. He’s floating. Golden and pink and hazy. 

Daddy is hovering over him, between his legs, petting and stroking him like he's a dog he needs to settle down with his affection and care. Except- he’s the one who got him excited. He’s the one who shoved a toy into him and told him no like that. 

Bucky sniffles, remembering how close he was, mourning the loss. 

“Okay?” Steve murmurs, somehow warmer and closer than he was before and also further away than he was before. He opens his mouth and a tiny little mewl falls out of his static filled lips, his tongue clumsy and heavy. Daddy clicks his tongue and pats his stomach with a broad palm, carefully avoiding his throbbing, aching cock where it’s leaking all over him, something filling his voice that he’s in no state to uncode as he tells him, “gonna get this all the way into your little cunt, pretty.” 

Bucky’s toes curl and his lips shape a fucked-out moan that’s mostly breath. 

He slides it all,  **all** the way back into him. 

He wants to squirm and squeal and moan and take it while expressing just how fucking  _ good  _ it feels but he can’t… Daddy broke him. All he can do is pant silently while his hole clenches around the toy, muscles shaking. It’s like he’s been cut open, filleted out, stuffed with arousal and pleasure and sewn back up. 

He can’t deal with it. 

Bucky jolts with bolts of cutting electric heat that get right to the very core of his being as Steve drums his fingers over the base of the plug. Bucky cries out. Shaking so much that surely he looks like he’s having a seizure. He vaguely hears the honey thick, deep hum of Steve’s voice. He doesn’t understand any of it. 

He sobs. Lips trembling, eyes squeezed as tightly shut as they can be to prevent tears from rushing down his face. 

Daddy repeats himself, tracing around the glass rose, now flush to his entrance, “that feel okay?” 

_ “Mm-more,” _ Bucky chokes, unable to help himself. He wants  _ more. _ He  wants needs to cum. He needs-

He tries to be brave. Trying to get his voice to be normal and utterly failing by just wailing instead. His cock is still pounding - like a fucking jackhammer - and aching and he’s got no idea how he’s supposed to do anything but clench down on it and cling to Steve’s arm all night. He’s got no idea how he’s not crying. Just that he’s not. 

Humming, Steve stands up. 

Using the goddamn towel to clean his hands, unintentionally unraveling Bucky even more. 

Bucky whimpers, his shaking arms trying to lift themselves from the bedsheets and failing miserably. All of his strength and energy and brainpower is being pushed towards the toy filling his cunt up nicely but not as nicely as Daddy’s actual cock would feel. He whines more, low and long and through tear glazed eyes he can see that Daddy is checking his watch and wincing and  _ no- _

Sweetly he leans over the side of the bed, pressing their sides together and gathering his face in his hands so he can hold him still and kiss him. Bucky can’t do anything. He can’t even breathe into the kiss. Daddy is the only one doing the kissing, he’s simply a puddle. 

Carefully Steve finds a corner of the towel he’s been using that’s clean and pats his face with it. 

For a second Bucky feels a bloom of anxiety in his chest-  _ is he crying? Is that why he needs to be cleaned up? _ Daddy murmurs something about sweat though so he’s just… sweating… just melting. His cheeks are over-sensitive with how much he’s been blushing and he’s definitely fever hot, so the towel is rough over his skin. He whines, upset and floating, blinking unsteadily up at his daddy’s handsome face. He gets another kiss for his trouble.

Quietly but still commandingly Daddy tells him with a pat to the cheek, “pull yourself together for me, honey. It’s time to get going, the car should already be waiting outside.”

Steve stands and wipes his stomach off then, erasing the physical but not the mental evidence of his denial. 

He might as well have been run over by said car; he feels so achy. So wrecked. 

The towel catches his dick all of the sudden and he gasps, bucking up into the feeling, moving on autopilot. Nerves burning hot and white. Pleasure cutting him into even finer bits. Nothing feels like  _ everything _ he’s so wrung out. So unraveled. 

Daddy doesn’t say anything. He shoves his hips back down, tutting lightly, his heart not in it. 

Daddy pulls his panties up next and all he can do is squirm and cant his hips up into the feeling again, sobbing as the move forces his body to clench down on the toy. The plug keeping his body primed and ready for daddy. For  **_after_ ** the gala. All of his nerves are raw and too delicate. Somehow his panties feel so, so much tighter. Tight enough to bring even more tears to his eyes. His skin is throbbing now. Not just his cunt or his balls or his dick.  _ He,  _ as a unit, is throbbing. Aching. Needing. 

He’s never wanted anything more than he wants permission to fall apart. 

His daddy’s hands arrange his leaking, nearly purple with need, dick inside his panties so he won’t look like he’s teetering on the edge of cumming, pitching the biggest tent in his clothes all the fucking time even though he is. He’s needy and hard and-

Lightning flashes behind his eyes when Steve snaps the top elastic of his naughty, pretty panties against his throbbing dick. He half screams. There’s not enough air left inside him to fully scream as a few fat, hot tears escape from his clamped shut eyes, rolling down his cheek. At this point he’s so strung out even crying doesn’t help him find any release. 

His slacks get pulled up, all casual-like, he gasps and there’s not enough strength to pull his jaw back closed. 

Already there’s too much feeling just in that, so when Daddy gets the tabs of his slacks together and zips his slacks up slowly, unintentionally dragging pressure up his cock in a mock upstroke motion. Almost like he’s jerking him off in Bucky’s fuck-dumb mind. He moans, wrecked and getting more wrecked as he feels the agonizing tightness of his pants increase. But he’s been moaning like that all night. So Daddy doesn’t do anything. 

Daddy doesn’t know how frighteningly close he is. Daddy doesn’t know.

He buttons his slacks, unaware. 

Bucky trembles, clenching down on the toy, hovering, floating between pushing back into the plug and up into Steve and getting stuck between the options. Shrouded in pleasure too thick to see through as he lets go of all the tears burning under his eyelids, wailing,  **_“d-daddy!”_ **

He’s on the edge. 

No-  _ no. _ He’s more than on the edge. 

He’s halfway over the edge already and Daddy chuckles as he’s thrown fully over the edge violently, proud of himself for turning his boy into such a mess in all likelihood, not getting his urgency. It’s a blessing though, his misunderstanding, because Daddy presses the heel of his palm into him, rubbing him and- that’s it.  _ That’s it. _

He’s gone. 

He’s cumming and he’s  _ drowning  _ in pleasure. Pleasure that is so, so,  _ so  _ good after having it held out of his reach for so long. Pleasure that storms through him, trashing his insides and undoing all of him. Crashing through him. Wrecking him. A tornado of pleasure that makes him want to curl into a ball under the force of it. But he can’t move. He can’t see, pleasure is blinding him. 

Pleasure and relief sink their claws into him but they aren’t the only ones. Humiliation is there too. He’s literally cumming in his pants  _ and from what? From having his zipper done up? _ All three of them tear him apart as he sobs and overheats. 

Floodgates part. Wringing him dry as he convulses under the simple friction because Daddy’s hand is still there. Wide and heavy and  _ fuck- _

It’s the most vicious orgasm Bucky has ever experienced, it takes up all the room inside of him and more. It’s pulled from every inch of him. His teeth ache in his jaw, his toes are curled and cramping, his balls are tight as he spills inside his panties, and somewhere outside of himself he hears Daddy’s voice, breathy and astonished, _ “fuck, really?” _

Instantly Daddy’s hand squeezes him tighter, helping him through it, the first or maybe somehow even a second, not just rubbing him but stroking him. Making his panties drag messily over his dick. Stretching his orgasm out to impossible lengths, making his cock jerk again. Making more cum wet the insides of his clothes. Ruining them. Ruining  _ him. _ It feels- feels so fucking good. Indescribably good. 

Satisfying and mortifying and- 

_ Oh. God.  _

He’s panting like he’s run halfway around the world as he comes down, floating back to the atmosphere and then down to the ground. He’s trembling all the way down to his bones, vibrating in his skin. His nerves and veins are full of static, buzzing and tingling. 

Steve’s palm is only resting over his crotch now, not rubbing anymore thankfully. Bucky would have to crawl out of his skin if that was the case. And he doesn’t feel like moving.

He whimpers even as his throat complains, overused. There is no way there’s not going to be a huge wet spot when he lifts his hand back up. His panties and slacks are without hope and  _ ruined.  _

“Well…” Steve’s voice is too thickly laden with what sounds like amazement for him to laugh, but he sounds overjoyed anyway, not at all bothered as he suggests, “maybe on second thought… we’ll just say home.”

Bucky tries to nod in agreement, hearing the words and then processing them after through the golden glaze over his world, but all of his muscles aren’t even jello- they’re less intact than that. His body is heavy and slow and Steve seems to understand. Getting onto the bed with him and covering him with his bigger frame, nodding for the both of them as he crushes him comfortably into the bed. 

After a couple of moments, blurry and warm, Daddy presses his lips to his cheek, whispering, sounding confessional as he does, “Jesus, baby, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Weakly Bucky groans as more heat curls in his gut at the heavy tone of voice, tempting his body and making his exhausted cock twitch even as satisfaction curls within him, friendly as a pet cat. He turns his head to the side, away from Steve’s lips and thirsty words. 

Steve just takes advantage of his exposed ear, lowering his voice to a growl,  _ “let daddy see you, Buck.”  _ Shock waves ripple through his used body. Waking up parts of him that only just got to settling down and hope for sweet dreams. Shaking his head and turning slightly more into the cloud of their bed Bucky tries to come across less easy than he is, whining again, ready to shake apart if things keep going down the path they seem to be now. Steve bites his earlobe, caressing his neck and grabbing his hip messily, “c’mon baby, daddy wants to see your pretty face.” His traitorous cock twitches through the cooling mess in his pants, “wanna see what all that hard work I just did looks like on your face. Made that cunt cum hard, didn’t I?” 

Bucky squeaks, cheeks coloring hot all over again, and turns over to face his daddy. 

“There you are,” Daddy coos, soft and hungry and… maybe the night has yet to be ruined after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, and bookmarks are all appreciated very VERY much! Thank you for reading!!
> 
> In other news, when I was writing this I was thinking about the kinds of sex toy that they might use and I first was like, oh, of course it's gonna be glass, then I was thinking about how it should match Bucky's panties and so pink glass was born. Then I thought about all the cool artsy shit you can do with glass and my mind instantly went pink glass rose but plug because... that's me. That's my brain. And I looked it up and oh my god, it's actually a think. I encourage you to look it up when you're alone because I'm a bit of a nerd and I think all the different types/looks sex toys can have are really dope.


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